


The Unknown

by thegreendaleseven



Series: The Grand Adventure [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Injury, M/M, Post-Games, Subtle Romance, asexual Ike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreendaleseven/pseuds/thegreendaleseven
Summary: This new country is more than Ike and Soren expected, but, as always, they'll get through it together.Or, five adventures with no destination and one that led them somewhere.





	The Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a bit tough to write, but once I got into it, it was a fun ride. Hope you all enjoy.

  1.   




The next day they set off on the path Soren found. The two of them had slept until the sun was high in the sky, leaving their faces mildly burned. Ike wasn’t even mad when Soren, smirking, had commented that one of his cheeks was a bright red, while the one that had rested upon Soren’s chest stayed a lighter tan.

 

Ike didn’t care about how ridiculous he looked. He wouldn’t change anything about the previous night.

 

In no rush, Ike scavenged fruit for them while Soren filled their canteens at a nearby pond. They stayed at the beach as they ate their breakfast, listening to the gentle waves brushing up against the shore. Once they packed up their belongings, they meandered down the path. They made little conversation, instead taking in the sights and sounds of the forest. There was nothing about it that made it different than a forest in Tellius, but it felt new to Ike.

 

It became obvious that they weren’t alone on this land when the trees started to lesson. The path, which had been flat, started inclining. Ike, clutching his bags, jogged until he reached the top, Soren only a few steps behind him. At the top, the two of them could see a small village at the bottom of the hill. A port hugged the west side of it; probably the real way to enter wherever they were. Following the path appeared to be the market area, with houses on the east end. It was a regular town, just like a seaside village they would find in Crimea. But the familiarity didn’t take away from the newness.

 

They wandered in, mingling into the crowds as they walked past vendors. Ike’s fingertips brushed against Soren’s hand several times, just to reassure him that they were still together. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Soren hesitate in front of a table with vulneraries and books. Leave it to Soren to find the books, Ike thought, head tilting as he noticed an unknown aroma. Glancing around, he saw a woman roasting small pieces of meat on a stick over a controlled fire. They smelled delicious.

 

He must’ve made eye contact with the woman because she called over, “One stick for ten gold!” Ike sighed in relief to hear that the country had the same currency, and walked over.

 

The woman, who looked at least ten years older than him, eyed him as he approached the table. “My, aren’t you a big boy. Sure just one will fill you up?”

 

“One is fine,” Ike replied, reaching into his pocket. He didn’t want to spend all their money at the first market he found.

 

As they exchanged gold for the food, her fingers brushed against his as she took it. They were very warm, probably from the fire, Ike noted. She reminded him of Aimee. Thankfully, this would be a one-time encounter. Eating his purchase as he walked back to Soren, he was pleased that it had been a worthwhile endeavor.

 

Soren was analyzing a map of the region when he stepped next to him. An old woman was on the other side of the table, pointing at various spots on the map. Not wanting to interrupt, Ike looked the map over, seeing the word “Ylisse” at the top of the parchment. He looked at the bottom, seeing a dot labeled “Southtown” next to the coast. He could only guess that’s where they were. There was a small island to the south that didn’t have a name. Maybe that’s where they were first?

 

“That’s how you get back to Regna Ferox,” the woman said loud enough for Ike to hear.

 

Before he could question what that meant, Soren said, “Thank you. We got terribly lost after leaving Plegia, and without a map, we must’ve gotten turned around.”

 

Soren was smiling and talking with a light tone. Ike stayed silent, letting Soren go ahead with whatever plan he had. But where was Plegia?

 

“Well, you may keep the map. It’s outdated, but will get you where you need to go. Anything to help someone who decided the dark arts weren’t the right path. And where did you say you studied magic?”

 

Soren grabbed the map and briskly walked away. It took Ike a moment to take in the sight of Soren’s departing back. With a quick nod to the woman, Ike took off after him.

 

“What was all that about?” he asked once he caught up. The two of them had made it to the northern outskirts.

 

“I didn’t know enough to make an educated guess,” Soren explained. “I thought it better to leave and to never encounter that woman again.”

 

Ike listened as Soren explained what he’d learned; they were in the halidom of Ylisse. To the west was Plegia, a county focused on black magic, which the woman, an aging mage, looked upon with disdain. She had asked if they were from Regna Ferox, to which Soren agreed to, playing the part of a traveling mage and scholar accompanied by a mercenary bodyguard.

 

“So I’m a mercenary here, too?” Ike joked, smiling at Soren.

 

“Unfortunately. It’s the first thing I thought of. Apparently there aren’t many mages in Regna Ferox, so I think she was suspicious of me. It’s for the best that we took our leave.”

 

“What’s the plan, then, Soren? Where is our next destination?”

 

“I thought we would head to Regna Ferox, if only because she walked me through the route to get there, but we should do what you wish.”

 

“No, let’s do that. You’re much better at coming up with an itinerary than I am.” They both knew that. When would Soren share his own wants with him? This was a new chapter for both of them. All Ike wanted was for Soren to act like he knew that.

 

“Well, the road is long, but relatively easy. We just start going north.

 

“Then let’s get going.”

 

\--

 

II.

 

Soren was right; the journey was long. The route, however, was straightforward. The two of them were able to sleep outside every night with good weather, and they were fortunate enough to come across enough fruits and small animals that they didn’t deplete their food supply. It took them five days to make it to the country.

 

“Apparently,” Soren explained during their trek, “though it’s a massive country led by two rulers, only one of them has control. The merchant didn’t go into detail, but she said they exchange power.”

 

“So does it matter where we enter the country?”

 

“I’m not sure.” Soren gently clenched his fists.

 

Ike knew how hard it was for Soren to be uncertain. Before the Mad King’s War, before they traveled all over, Soren at least had the capability of reading about it. Here, they had nothing. It was different when they were on an island, just the two of them, but now they were in a land with different governments, different cultures. Who knew what they would find.

 

Their map was old and unfamiliar, and Regna Ferox was especially bare. It was hard to tell where they were, but wherever they had ended up, there was a large, circular building with people crowded around it.

 

As they approached, a young man with parchment called out, “Conquer the arena and win 10,000 gold!”

 

Ike glanced at Soren, who was looking back at him. What’s a battle competition after defeating a goddess?

 

The answer: It’s nothing.

 

Each combatant was armed with an iron sword. There were forty participants, men and women, but none posed a threat to Ike. Most were inexperienced while others lacked the strength and stamina. Ike didn’t break a sweat against his many opponents; each match was over in a moment.

 

His last opponent, however, was more skilled. Tall and fast, she attacked relentlessly, but he blocked her again and again, able to follow her movements. Once she started to slow down, it only took one parry to disarm her.

 

The man from outside rushed over to him from the stands. He grabbed his wrist and raised his arm. “This man has been chosen as the Khan’s champion. May he bring victory for the West Khan!”

 

As the spectators erupted with applause, Ike scanned the crowd to find Soren, who was beginning to stand. Once they made eye contact, they nodded to each other, already in agreement. When the excitement died down, Ike snuck out of the arena and found Soren outside. It had begun to rain sometime during the tournament, but they still made their departure. Ike realized they had left before receiving the gold, but he didn’t care. There was no way he was getting involved in politics.

 

III.

 

Their visit to Plegia was a brief one.

 

After fleeing the arena, they started walking without consulting the map. They went south, but somehow went on a different trail and ended up in Plegia.

 

The village they found seemed conventional enough, though the streets were empty, save for one robed person with their hood up. When they approached, Ike could make out the person’s face; a man, if he had to guess, with a very pale face.

 

“Greetings, travelers!” he said, pushing his hood down. His red hair looked unwashed. “Are you members of the Grimleal?”

 

What was the Grimleal?

 

“We are not,” Soren answered without breaking stride.

 

The man grabbed Soren’s wrist. “Then perhaps you should let me tell you about Grima.”

 

Before Soren could respond, Ike grabbed the man’s arm, forcing him to let go of Soren, and pushed him back. “We’re good, thanks.”

 

They turned around and went back the way they came, eager to be out of here. Ike could faintly hear the man chanting something, and, as he turned his head, he saw the man holding a tome. This time, Soren was faster. With his own tome, he casted a wind spell that knocked the stranger off his feet. The two of them ran from the scene, wishing for the altercation to be done.

 

“Thanks for that,” Ike said once they slowed down. They were out of the village and continuing back north.

 

“I could’ve handled him,” Soren said.

 

“I know. I’m sorry.” Ike didn’t doubt Soren’s ability to handle himself in a bad situation. He didn’t know what came over him, seeing that man grab Soren. He just wanted to take care of it. “What do you think the Grimleal is?”

 

“I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to.”

 

Ike nodded. He felt the same way.

 

\--

 

IV.

 

It took them over a week to arrive at the western coast of Ferox. Once they made it back to the country, they went at a slow, wandering pace. Through Soren’s strategic questioning, they learned that the Grimleal were a religious group—or a cult, depending on who he asked—devoted to the Fell Dragon, Grima. If they were going to stay on this continent much longer, Ike thought, it might be worth learning the history.

 

Then again, perhaps they would be moving on. While Soren was talking with some seller, Ike watched ships arriving and departing from the port. To his left, he listened to two older men discuss whether or not Ferox should engage in trade with a place called Valm. He squinted his eyes, peering out across the sea. He could see the silhouette of land in the distance. Maybe that was Valm?

 

As Soren left the seller, Ike brought up what he had overheard.

 

“The merchant brought up Valm as well. He said there’s one ship that ferries people across, but it costs 500 gold per person… which is more than we currently have.”

 

Ike wasn’t surprised by this news. It was bound to happen eventually, especially since he didn’t claim his reward from that arena. While he didn’t regret not participating further, he might’ve been too hasty in not getting his gold first.

 

“I have a solution, if you’d care to hear me out.” Ike nodded. “The seller has a job for us. He needs to get these herbs to a vendor in Ylisstol, which is back in Ylisse. If we take the herbs, exchange them for a book on botany, and bring the book back, he’ll give us the funds we need for the ship.”

 

After mulling it over, Ike agreed. “Might be nice to go back to Ylisse, and I don’t think we’ve been to Ylisstol?”

 

“We have not. It’s apparently the capital of Ylisse, so I believe it would be wise to check it out.”

 

“I like your plan, Soren. Shall we head back out?”

 

Based on the estimated route on the map and their consistently steady pace, Soren guessed it would take them two weeks to get back to Ylisse. His estimations were, typically, correct. But this trip did not go as planned.

 

They made it across Regna Ferox without any incidents. It took them ten days to cross over into Ylisse. They were currently hugging the side of a mountain as they walked along a narrow path. The path did not scale the whole mountain, but they were a couple hundred feet above the ravine. Ike and Soren navigated this path before; it had only taken them an hour or so.

 

This time, Ike heard rocks falling, and before he could finish turning his head, Soren was tumbling down the cliffside.

 

“Soren!” he yelled as he quickly crouched down, reaching out to him. The thudding sounds of Soren’s body hitting the rocks were the only response Ike got. He could see Soren clawing and grabbing at the rock side, trying to stop his descent.

 

Removing the iron sword he took from the arena—the only thing he took from the arena—from his back, Ike tested to see if he could pierce the cliffside with the blade. It could. He pulled it out and stuck it into the side father down. With no other option but believing the sword would support him, he clung to the hilt with one hand and lowered himself down. The cliffside was steep slope all the way down. He could see Soren at the bottom, motionless, but he could only focus on lowering himself down. Find a foothold, a handhold, pull out the sword, put it in a new spot a few feet lower, and inch his way down. He repeated this process and, eventually, found a rhythm and made hasty progress. He had to. He had no other choice.

 

Time crawled. Ike focused on his descent. The only things he could hear were the sounds of the sword entering and exiting the rocks and his heartbeat. Soren was fine. Soren was going to be fine.

 

With only twenty or so more feet, the blade snapped from the hilt as he pulled it from the cliff. “Blast!” Ike exclaimed, tossing the hilt. Ike let go of the jutting rock he held with his other hand, scooting down and digging in with his boots to slow his fall.

 

As his feet hit the ground, Ike rushed to Soren’s side. He was face down on the ground, a few feet from the river. Bending down, he swung his bags off his back and rummaged through them for a vulnerary. Soren was breathing, he could tell. His robes were torn, his hands were bloodied, and his forehead had a large gash. That was everything he could see.

 

He fished out two vulneraries from his sack. Setting them aside, Ike gently grabbed Soren’s shoulders and turned him onto his back, freezing in place as Soren screamed. Still grasping him, Ike could see the abnormal angle of his left arm.

 

“I’m sorry, Soren,” he whispered as he reached for the first vulnerary. Sorry for causing him pain, for taking so long to get to him, for not saving him in the first place.

 

Cradling Soren with one arm, Ike bought the restorative to his mouth. The seconds it took Soren to drink it felt like hours. Once it was gone, Ike tossed the empty vial aside and grabbed the second one. When Soren drank that one, Ike set him down, satisfied that the gash had healed and his breathing sounded stronger. His arm, however, remained broken.

 

Ike located Soren’s bag nearby. He cringed when he opened it; the vulnerary had broken during the fall. Most of the contents were now sticky. The map, thankfully, was fine. He grabbed Soren’s canteen and filled it at the river. He would let Soren rest a little longer and then make him drink.

 

Snacking on a piece of salted meat, Ike began setting up camp. Valm would have to wait.

 

V.

 

Ike and Soren waited two days before they continued. There wasn’t much for them at the ravine; zero protection from the elements and little food options. There were some trees that offered branches that Ike used for firewood and two large twigs he used as a splint for Soren’s arm, tying them together with twine he found in Soren’s bag.

 

He could tell that Soren was embarrassed about the whole incident, but Ike was just thankful he was alive. Neither was at a place to joke about it. Soren only made negative remarks when Ike had to assist him with basic tasks.

 

Soren’s spare robes were black and of a similar style to the ones he wore during the Mad King’s War. Ike had to wash them since they were sticky from the leaky vulnerary. He did that the first night, allowing them to dry overnight. They both slept though the night and well into the morning.

 

Once they awoke, Ike undertook the slow process of changing Soren, who did his best to help. They went at a cautious pace, careful to avoid jostling the arm.

 

“I feel like a child,” Soren had commented as Ike pulled down the robe, uncovering his head.

 

“You’d do the same if it were me.”

 

“Fair enough.” Soren’s face flushed a little at that, but Ike didn’t pry.

 

He did, however, wash his own clothes. Might as well since they were going to be there for awhile, Ike thought. Wearing only his underwear, he laid out his clothes on the ground. The ravine received a good amount of sunlight, so it wouldn’t take long for them to dry.

 

“Would you like me to fix your hair?” Ike asked. Soren’s tie had loosened and he knew that he didn’t like his hair in his face.

 

“You don’t have to do that, Ike,” Soren said, not looking at him.

 

“No, I want to.” He walked over and sat behind Soren. He knew his comb was also sticky, so he planned on using his fingers. “Can I?”

 

Soren nodded, and Ike slowly pulled the tie from his hair. It fell to the middle of his back. Ike tentatively ran his fingers through the locks. For how well-maintained his hair normally was, he didn’t usually see Soren comb it. Still, his fingers only caught two times, so he knew he had combed it recently. Before tying it back, Ike lightly touched his scalp, gently scratching it. Soren startled but quickly relaxed. Ike rubbed circles on his head with his fingers for minutes. He had no clue what he was doing, no skill at it, but it was nice to touch him. It was nice that Soren trusted him that much.

 

They spent the rest of the day relaxing, staying in close proximity of each other, and when the sun rose again, Soren decided it was time to move on. While Ike agreed—he really needed to get Soren to a healer—he was nervous to move on. He had periodically looked at the map during their break. It wasn’t detailed enough to tell if the path to Ylisstol would be different at the lower elevation. They had no choice but to continue south.

 

The path they chose took them through a dense forest. While there was no road, there was an informally trail, areas of land where Ike could tell there was a lot of foot traffic.

 

A split twig caught their attention. Ike and Soren turned their heads in the direction of the sound. They were surrounded by ten… laguz? They looked unshifted, but Ike had never heard of a laguz race with rabbit ears.

 

“Why are you in our warren?” a male laguz asked.

 

Ike could see from the corner of his eye that Soren was tense. He stepped in front of him as he asked, “Are you laguz?”

 

The remaining nine whispered amongst themselves while the one who spoke to them, the leader, Ike guessed, approached them. “How do you know that word? I’ve never heard a human say it.”

 

So this land did not use words like “laguz” or “beorc,” Ike reasoned. “What may we call you?”

 

“We are Taguel. Now where are you from?”

 

“We’re from Tellius. Does that mean anything to you?” Ike was curious, and hoped that these creatures, the Taguel, would be forthcoming with any information.

 

The one Ike assumed was the leader glanced at the ground. “I have heard it, but I don’t know where it is. As for laguz, I know they are beasts, like us, but our elder who knew the stories about these words has passed. I’m afraid none of us know the full story.”

 

“Do any of you know how to write?” Soren asked, contributing to the conversation. Ike raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going.

 

The man shook his head.

 

“So you recount your history orally? No wonder none of you know it.”

 

Ike quietly scoffed. He had hoped Soren wouldn’t lump the Taguel with the laguz, but it seemed he was. Besides, Soren did not have the high ground in this argument; after mere months of finding out Tellius’s history had been warped, it wasn’t fair to judge anyone else for being ignorant.

 

“Sorry for him,” Ike said quickly, trying to change the conversation before it took a negative turn. “It’s our first time meeting a Taguel. Can I ask, do you ever… mate with humans?”

 

The leader regarded them for a moment. “We do. Many of us are not full-blooded, which is another reason many don’t know our history.” Ike noticed the man glaring at Soren.

 

“My companion,” Ike began, motioning to Soren, “is good at writing. Maybe he could help you out.”

 

“What?” Soren stepped back, staring at Ike.

 

Ike closed the gap and leaned towards him, whispering, “They’re different, Soren, I know it. I think it would be good for you. We’re going to be stuck around here for a bit until you recover.” He knew Soren could be stubborn, but he wanted him to have an open mind. Some good could come from this partnership.

 

“I can record your history for you, but I do not work for free.”

 

The man was definitely glaring now. “And what do you want, human?”

 

“Food. Any knowledge of the area will suffice, too.”

 

Ike was surprised by food coming before knowledge, but having a consistent food source would be comforting. The leader accepted these conditions, and the deal was struck. Ike and Soren would come to the warren every seven days and write down anything anyone wanted to share. Once their work was completed for the day, the Taguel would share their food with them.

 

They parted ways after getting better directions to Ylisstol. He could tell Soren was reluctant about the arrangement, but Ike believed this would be a good thing for everyone. Soren needed something in his life separate from him, and this was a job only he could do. Maybe it could even help heal some of his past pain.

 

VI.

 

Ike did not like Ylisstol. It was large, crowded, and he heard several people praising Naga; it reminded him too much of Sienne.

 

On their first day there, they found a small church. There were no worshippers inside, but two kind clerics offered them bread and soup and a place to stay. They were unable to fully heal Soren’s arm, but they estimated that he would be fine in a month.

 

The next day, they located the merchant and received the book. The question was, would the man honor their agreement if it took them over a month to bring the book back to him? Ike cared more about Soren recovering than being delivery boys, but he felt a little bad for unintentionally leading the man on.

 

“It’s you!”

 

Ike and Soren turned in the direction of the yell. A young woman was marching towards them. They looked at each other, having a simultaneous revelation of who she was.

 

“You’re from the arena,” Ike said aloud. She had closed the distance.

 

“You’re the one who beat me. I want a rematch!” she declared, hands on her hips.

 

She reminded Ike of Mia. “I don’t have a sword.”

 

From seemingly out of nowhere, she revealed two scabbards hanging from her pants. She led them to the wooded edge of the city.

 

“If I win,” she said, “I want what you have left of the reward.”

 

Before Ike could say they never received the reward, Soren said, “And what if Ike wins?”

 

“My father left me a home in these woods. I will give that to you. Sound good?”

 

Ike looked to Soren and nodded. “Ready when you are.”

 

The two stood six feet apart, swords drawn. At the arena, he allowed her to make the first move. Not this time. He took one step forward, swinging his blade down. She blocked, but he quickly retaliated, spinning away from her and slashing to her other side. She blocked again, stepping back. Now that he was fighting her again, he was more convinced that she had formal training. He respected how unshakable she was.

 

She went on the offensive, bursting forward with three rapid thrusts. Ike deflected each one. Sparring was something he missed during this adventure. The battle went the same way as the last one. Ike defended himself until she ran out of energy, and then he easily disarmed her. She did not have the best stamina.

 

“Can’t believe I lost again. How are you so strong?”

 

Ike handed her back her sword. “I’ve fought a lot of people. I trained every day.” He left out leading multiple armies and defeating evil kings and goddesses. “What’s your name?”

 

“Oh, sorry, I’m Lara.” She held out a hand to him.

 

“I’m Ike.” He shook her hand and jerked his head in Soren’s direction. “That’s Soren. I’d like you to take this.”

 

He gave her the book and explained the situation. She protested, saying she didn’t deserve this for losing, but Ike wanted someone to get the gold from this book. In exchange, she handed him a key and gave directions to the house before departing.

 

“Shall we check it out?” Soren asked. It was an hour away from them, northeast of Ylisstol.

 

Ike placed a hand on Soren’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> So Ike and Soren are in Ylisse. There won't be any characters from Awakening featured in this universe, so I did not feel the need to tag the game with this fic. Hopefully that's the right call. Anyway, any feedback would be appreciated. Thanks for reading!


End file.
